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When considering restroom upgrades, it's advisable to avoid employing Lisa Herfeldt to handle it.

Indeed, she's highly skilled with a silicone gun, creating fascinating sculptures out of an unusual art material. However the more examine her creations, the clearer one notices that an element is a little off.

The thick strands from the foam she produces stretch beyond the shelves supporting them, hanging downwards to the ground. The knotty silicone strands bulge till they rupture. Certain pieces break free from the display cases completely, evolving into a collector for dust and hair. It's safe to say the reviews would not be pretty.

At times I get an impression that items are alive within a space,” says the sculptor. “That’s why I came to use silicone sealant as it offers such an organic sensation and look.”

Indeed there is an element rather body horror regarding these sculptures, from the suggestive swelling that protrudes, hernia-like, from its cylindrical stand in the centre of the gallery, or the gut-like spirals made of silicone that burst as if in crisis. Displayed nearby, Herfeldt has framed images of the works viewed from different angles: resembling microscopic invaders picked up on a microscope, or formations on a petri-dish.

What captivates me is the idea in our bodies occurring that seem to hold independent existence,” she says. “Things you can’t see or control.”

Regarding unmanageable factors, the promotional image featured in the exhibition features an image of the leaky ceiling at her creative space located in Berlin. It was built in the early 1970s as she explains, was instantly hated by local people as numerous historic structures got demolished in order to make way for it. The place was run-down when Herfeldt – who was born in Munich but grew up in northern Germany before arriving in Berlin during her teens – moved in.

The rundown building caused issues to Herfeldt – it was risky to display her pieces without fearing risk of ruin – but it was also intriguing. Without any blueprints accessible, no one knew how to repair any of the issues which occurred. Once an overhead section in Herfeldt’s studio was saturated enough it gave way completely, the sole fix was to replace it with another – perpetuating the issue.

At another site, Herfeldt says the leaking was so bad so multiple drainage containers were installed within the drop ceiling to divert the water to a different sink.

“I realised that the building acted as a physical form, a totally dysfunctional body,” she says.

These conditions reminded her of the sci-fi movie, the initial work cinematic piece about an AI-powered spacecraft which becomes autonomous. Additionally, observers may note through the heading – three distinct names – more movies have inspired shaping Herfeldt’s show. The three names indicate main characters in the slasher film, another scary movie and Alien in that order. She mentions a 1987 essay from a scholar, outlining the last women standing as a unique film trope – women left alone to save the day.

These figures are somewhat masculine, on the silent side and they endure thanks to resourcefulness,” the artist explains about such characters. “They don’t take drugs nor sexual activity. It is irrelevant who is watching, everyone can relate to the final girl.”

Herfeldt sees a parallel linking these figures to her artworks – objects which only maintaining position amidst stress they’re under. Is the exhibition focused on cultural decay beyond merely leaky ceilings? As with many structures, these materials meant to insulate and guard from deterioration are actually slowly eroding within society.

“Oh, totally,” responds the artist.

Prior to discovering her medium with sealant applicators, she experimented with alternative odd mediums. Previous exhibitions have involved forms resembling tongues using fabric similar to typical for on a sleeping bag or in coats. Again there is the impression these peculiar objects might animate – certain pieces are folded as insects in motion, pieces hang loosely from walls or spill across doorways collecting debris from touch (Herfeldt encourages people to handle leaving marks on pieces). As with earlier creations, the textile works are also housed in – and breaking out of – budget-style display enclosures. These are unattractive objects, and really that’s the point.

“They have a specific look that draws viewers compelled by, and at the same time appearing gross,” she says amusedly. “It tries to be invisible, but it’s actually very present.”

Herfeldt is not making art to provide ease or visual calm. Instead, her intention is to evoke uncomfortable, strange, maybe even amused. But if you start to feel water droplets from above as well, don’t say this was foreshadowed.